Blaze
by ofb29
Summary: *last chapter* Sara has a hot case to deal with. Please R&R. (n/s)
1. human torch

CSI and everything attached to it belong to someone that isn't me- just playing, don't sue- it really wouldn't be worth it!  
  
Timeline- first season, early, au AN- This is a repost of the first three chapters, as for some reason, the formatting changed when I uploaded last time- hope this comes out a little better!  
  
The brunt of the fall was taken out by a pile of old newspapers, stacked up waiting for someone to take pity on them. By that time, however, it hardly mattered. The flames had all but burned themselves out, leaving behind the occasional flicker, but mostly just smoldering ashes of the cotton t-shirt and jogging bottoms.  
  
The horrified screams of pain, long since silenced, seemed to echo in the still night air, pulling people from their apartments above the alley, rising above the regular sounds of whatever happened to be on the box at that moment. Someone dialled 911, while others looked on, helpless to act, helpless to do anything except watch and hear over and over that haunting screaming. A feeling akin to relief when at last the sound died, taken over by the crackling flames, and that pungent smell of burnt flesh. More that one of them threw up as the smell got in their noses, stuck to the back of their throats, making them gag. The wall of flames had died, but it had certainly left a mark.  
  
'A human torch.' Captain Jim Brass said, looking over at the CSI by his side, to see how she was taking it.  
  
'Any ID?' Her face was carefully blank, emotion pushed firmly to the background. If the smell that was making him nauseous was getting too her, she was far too professional to show it.  
  
'Negative. Visual's impossible, everything else is burned. It'll have to be on dental records, if there's even that left. My guess?' He looked over at her to see if she was interested in hearing his opinion. She looked sideways at him. 'Male- tall to be female.'  
  
She looked back at the scene before her, fighting the urge to vomit up her insides. The smell was indescribable, and even though it wasn't her first death by burning, it was the first time the smell had been this pungent. She began to list everything that she would need to do as Brass asked a question. She looked up at him, the look on her face telling him she hadn't been listening.  
  
'I asked where the rest of the team are?' He repeated.  
  
'Busy.' She answered. 'You should know Brass, the other cases are from your team.'  
  
'Oh right, sure. You can do this alone?' Sara Sidle ignored the question, looking back at the scene, the look on her face showing that she didn't like her professionalism being challenged.  
  
She had lucked out on this one. Nick and Catherine were still knee deep in a fatal robbery on the strip, and Warrick and Grissom were investigating a double murder in the Pines. Which left her, when this had come through. Finally, a chance to prove that she was more than capable.  
  
'Ok, well, we've got a few eyewitness statements to take, so I'll leave you to it.' He said, in a rushed voice, feeling uncomfortable. He knew if someone had questioned his ability, he'd be a little pissed as well.  
  
Sara barely acknowledged his leaving, her mind already back on listing all the things she had to do. Knowing she could ask a uniform to do it, she hoisted the camera and started to shoot. She preferred to work the scene alone.  
  
Shots of the scene in general at first, then close ups of the body, the charred limbs, the barely recognisable head, the hair completely burned, the face so badly mangled that it was impossible to say whether Brass's guess of the body being male was right or not.  
  
She bagged and tagged a few things of interest; ash to test for an accelerant, some litter off the streets which could, or could not be useful. A single piece of paper that had been folded into a little square, which lay about three feet from the head of the body. She didn't try and unfold it then, wanting to test for fingerprints first off of the two outer surfaces.  
  
Her cellphone suddenly vibrating in her jacket pocket made her jump and almost drop a few strands of hair that she had found. Annoyed, she snapped down the casing, barking her name into the handset.  
  
'Sara? It's Nick.'  
  
'Hi.' Her voice was still curt, her mind too on the scene before her to think of manners as well.  
  
'Yeah.hi. Just saw Grissom, he said you had a charred body out in Buntingford.' Sara looked over at the body. She wouldn't call the body that was barely just above ash, charred.  
  
'Yeah.'  
  
'Do you need a hand? Me and Catherine have just finished collecting'  
  
'No.' She interrupted quickly. 'No, Nick, it's fine, all in hand.'  
  
'You sure? I know we're stretched, but there's no need to take on all that work.'  
  
'Nicky, it's all under control, nothing I can't handle.'  
  
'Okay.' Nick answered, sounding uncertain. 'Well, Grissom said that whichever of us finishes processing first can help you with the case.'  
  
'Whatever, bye Nicky.' And with that she snapped closed the lid and threw the phone into the box of instruments next to her. She looked at the two intertwined strands of hair that were dangling from the tweezers she held in her left hand, moving them a little so they could catch a glint of the dim streetlight above, the conversation already far from her mind.  
  
Nick Stokes looked at the cellphone in his hand, still a little surprised by the curt cut off. He had thought that in the last few months she had started to warm to their friendship a little. They had started to occasionally see each other outside of their (hardly) normal work duties. And, ok, a little part of him had been hoping that some day, in the future, that it might even go a little further. But if that phone call was anything to go by, he had a long way to go.  
  
'Hey Nick, did you drop off the guns in Ballistics?' Catherine startled him as she entered the break room.  
  
'Uh yeah, all done. But, there, um, a little jammed, so they said it could take a while.'  
  
'Are you ok? You seem a little preoccupied.'  
  
'Oh, it's nothing. I just phoned Sara to see if she needed a hand, and she, well, she.'  
  
'Cut you off?' Catherine guessed.  
  
'well.kinda. Yeah.' Nick answered, looking up at her.  
  
'Don't worry bout it Nicky- she's at a crime scene, and it's the first time she's been assigned alone. She's just involved and forgetting herself.' Catherine told him confidently.  
  
Nick raised an eyebrow slightly in thought.  
  
'You probably rang just as she'd found something. Come on, we've got clothing to check for evidence.' Catherine told him, pulling him up by his sleeve, and out the door.  
  
The coroner had arrived and gone through the formality of pronouncing, and the body had been removed to the morgue, leaving Sara to comb the entire area inch by inch. She found one more strand of hair, and a few short strands of some fibre that she couldn't identify by sight. She bagged and tagged, and began to pack up her equipment, signalling to a near-by uniform that she was going.  
  
Brass saw, and moved towards her. The newest member of the CSI team was growing on him, he had to admit. Maybe a bit too much of Grissom's influence in her, but hopefully, the more she was with the rest of the team the more she would be well rounded by them, blunting the early influence of Grissom.  
  
'Finished?'  
  
She shrugged. 'Done all I can here. Anything from them?' She asked, nodding towards a few stragglers that the younger detectives were just finishing questioning.  
  
'All of them were roused by screaming. All saw a ball of flames, but didn't have time to do anything. No one saw it begin, no one saw anything identifiable of the body.'  
  
'Shame. Well, I'd better get back, start processing. Try and identify.him?'  
  
'Yeah. I'll get in touch if I find out anything.'  
  
'Ditto.' They parted ways, Sara heading to her Tahoe. She dumped her stuff on the back seat, and hopped in the front, switching on the engine at the same time as flicking on the radio, already tuned to a local rock station.  
  
Her sanctuary, aka the CSI labs, were fairly quiet, as it was coming up to one in the morning. She made the stop at Greg's lab to drop off the ash, asking if he could process it for an accelerant. He pointed at two separate sets of bags stacked on his desk.  
  
'Bit busy here.' He told her.  
  
'Think of the overtime.' She told him, walking out before he could reply.  
  
She stopped at the locker room to strip off her jacket and slip into her lab coat before going off to start logging in the rest of the small pieces of what might turn out to be evidence. It was long and tedious, but necessary, the part of the investigation that really benefited from having more than one person working on it. She worked through it though, hoping that the time would be enough for the prelim report from the coroner to be ready. 


	2. like fire

Disclaimer- see first part  
  
'How's he doing?' Sara asked as she entered the cold steel environment of the mortuary. She already had on the mandatory scrubs and mask, her hair pulled back off her face.  
  
Dr Roberts, the Coroner on the case looked up at her entrance. He was standing the other side of the table, a barely recognisable body shaped piece of charred meat, covered unnecessarily for modesty in a white sheet, the contrast in colour stark against the silver table. 'Well, firstly, it's not a he.'  
  
'Female?' Sara asked in surprise.  
  
'100%. Tell by what's left of the pelvis.' He told her, nodding with his head towards the light box on the wall. Two x-rays were highlighted, one of the pelvic region, the other of the chest. The hips, Sara could tell, without being a radiologist, were female, too round to be male. The burden of every female's life, and something however many trips to the gym, and calorie counting was done, could never be changed.  
  
'What else?'  
  
'Caucasian. Age? Around twenty five to thirty, based on the calcification of the bones. Tall; 5 10, round about one-twenty weight. Never had children. Died, unsurprisingly from mass shock, caused by third degree burns.'  
  
'Any other injuries of note?'  
  
'Skins too damaged to assess. There's some unexplained nerve damage on her chest, over what looks like old fracture lines on her ribs. They're at least a year old, though. Broken arm as a child. Baseline fracture to the skull, but it was post-mortem, no tissue damage underneath, probably from when the body fell. I'll know more after the full autopsy. I bagged what was left of the clothes for you.' He said, nodding to a brown evidence bag on the sheet. It looked far too thin to hold anything of significance. 'Not much left, I'm afraid; a few items of jewellery that survived the heat, some threads of what looks like jogging bottom material. Got dental records when there's something to compare them to.'  
  
Sara nodded, going to pick up the bag.  
  
'Oh, one other thing.' Dr Roberts said as she reached the door. Her hand on the handle, she turned to regard him. 'Ring on her wedding finger.'  
  
'Thanks, doc.'  
  
'Your welcome.' He said to the closed door.  
  
Female. Burned. Ouch. Female. Young. Tall. Medium build. Married? Female. Burned. On purpose. Hydro-carbonic traces in the ash. Gasoline. Doused in Gasoline. What.a match, a lighter. Something to get the fire started. One tiny spark, and she would have been up in flames.  
  
Screaming.  
  
Like the witnesses said. Screaming as the fire spread over all her body, leaving third degree burns in their wake. Burning past the thin layer of epidermis, through the subcutaneous fat, through to the nerves, to the tissue.  
  
Scorching the sternum and the pelvis with the heat. When had she died? How soon after the fire? How long had she had to stand their, screaming in mindless agony till the fire and won, gained all control, burned the life out of the woman?  
  
Who was she? Out jogging, maybe? Completely random, senseless act of cowardice? Throw gasoline, a spark, and voila, a human fire ball.  
  
Or was it more controlled? Had she known the attacker like the majority of homicide victims? Did she stand and watch, knowing what was about to happen? Did she see him (the likelihood being that the murderer was male) before he doused her with gas, as he struck the light.  
  
Was she screaming before the pain hit?  
  
Was it too early for missing persons? Probably. Less than twenty-four hours if she hadn't been missing before hand, wouldn't be logged yet as a missing persons. She'd have to be dead a while longer before anyone could report her as such. Missing, lying on a coroners table.  
  
It never ceased to amaze Sara the lengths people would go to, to end another human's life. She'd burned herself a few times. Small things, touching a pan handle without thinking, spilling hot water over the side of a cup onto a hand. Small burns, still hurt though. Having your whole body, all at the same time, that deep almost itching sensation of pain.  
  
Sara shook the image out of her head, knowing that thinking this way wasn't going to help her. It wasn't their job to ask why. It was their job to find out the how's and the therefores. She was first and foremost a scientist, but it didn't stop her wondering about the state of human nature when one person could intentionally do this to another, didn't stop her asking why.  
  
She looked at the piece of paper in front of her, the folded piece she had recovered from the crime scene. She had just sprayed it to set anything that could be a print to the surface, and was getting ready to test it, when the door to the private lab opened. Sara looked up, annoyed at the intrusion.  
  
'Oh, sorry, didn't know anyone was in here.'  
  
'I am.' Sara said, pointing out the obvious, and her irritation at the interruption.  
  
'Gee.'Whatever Warrick had been about to say, he bit back. 'Sorry, just I need a flat space to look at this t-shirt.'  
  
'We've got a whole department full of labs, go find another table.'  
  
'All the others are full as well. You're not even using most of it.' He pointed out, his own voice showing that he was getting increasingly irritated as well.  
  
Sara pouted, but stopped short of saying something that would just sound childish, turning from him instead, giving him the cold shoulder as she returned to the piece of paper.  
  
'Thank you.' He said, although he didn't sound all that much like he meant it. The only lab in this whole place with a space big enough, and she had to be in it.  
  
Warrick knew he had a bad case of judge before you know. But Sara hadn't exactly done anything to help herself, after being brought in to investigate him. She was rude, brash, irritating, to say the least. So what if she was good CSI? Didn't mean he had to like her, just put up with her when they were assigned together, which thankfully, wasn't that often.  
  
'Crap.' He heard her mutter about half an hour after he had been in the room. Up until then, it had been stiflingly silent, neither of them about to make small talk with the other.  
  
He looked up to see her studying something under a hand held magnifier. 'What?'  
  
She jumped and looked up at him, obviously startled.  
  
He smiled at her reaction. 'Sorry, still here.'  
  
She recovered, giving him a less than friendly smile back, before looking back at what looked like a piece of paper she held between tweezers. 'The finger prints too smudged to be of use.' She said, almost as if she was talking to herself.  
  
'Can I see?'  
  
She looked up in surprise. 'Uh, sure.' She said, her eyes narrowed, wondering if he was checking up on her work. Technically, he was a rank above her.  
  
'Shame, looks like something smudged it.' He said after a few seconds. 'Maybe you could try and focus it a little.'  
  
'I already tried magnifying it.'  
  
'No, with a computer. Scan it, then try and tighten the resolutions a little. It won't be clear enough for a complete match, but it might give you something to work with later.'  
  
She was clearly thinking over his suggestion. 'Worth a shot, not a lot else left.'  
  
'This your human fire-ball case?'  
  
'Yeah. Someone doused a woman in gas and set her alight.'  
  
'Ouch, I can't even imagine how painful that had to be.'  
  
'Yeah, me neither.'  
  
'Anything identifiable?'  
  
'No. Too early for missing persons, skins too burned for fingerprints. We need records to compare dental works too, but we need something to work from.'  
  
'Tough case. We should be.'  
  
'I can handle it.' She interrupted before he could get it out.  
  
'Sara, this is way too much for.'  
  
'I said, I can handle it. Why does everyone think I'm not capable?' She asked, fuming.  
  
'It's not that.'  
  
'yeah right.' Sara scoffed. 'You've all been questioning it. Oh look, a DB for Sara, don't know if she's up to it.'  
  
'It's not like that, and you know it. A murder is hard work on one investigator. You don't have to take on all this work alone.'  
  
'Oh what, I should wait for one of you guys to finish? Get real.'  
  
'Sara.' He chided, although there was only a gentleness to his voice, that surprised him, as much as it surprised her. 'We're meant to be a team. I know you can handle it. No one ever thought you couldn't. But don't shirk the offer of help when you get it, or you'll be chasing your tail all shift.'  
  
Sara had lost the indignation and anger of a few seconds ago, and now even managed a small smile. 'You're right. But you're all still busy, so I might as well do what I can for now. Grissom's already said whoever finishes first will help out. But I can get everything started.'  
  
She turned, carefully carrying the piece of paper, heading towards her computer, wondering what had just happened between her and Warrick. Had he just been nice to her?  
  
Eight hours later, and she had forgotten all about Warrick, as she searched through database after database looking for a match for her fibres. She knew they were a cotton mix, dyed hot pink at some point, and came from the same source. Now all she needed was that source. She had matched up enough that she knew they were from some sort of fleecy garment, but she had yet to match exactly which one. She had found a database on line of fabric used by the major whole-sailors of fabric, but unfortunately it didn't come attached with a search facility so she was having to do it by hand.  
  
She lifted the coffee cup to her lips, sipping the luke warm water with more sugar than coffee. She had stopped counting how many cups she had had, after her forth. She was about to really doze off when the figures on the screen before her startled her with their familiarity. She checked the components through twice, before knowing that she had found a definite match. And even better, when she checked the product list, there was just one, a high class upholstery store making and selling fleece blankets, in besides hot pink, lavender and navy blue.  
  
Finally with a lead to go on, she printed off the result, and went to find a phonebook. Nick and Warrick were walking the other way, both with jackets in hand. Sara was surprised to find when she looked out of a near by window that it was morning, the end of shift.  
  
'Hey Sar, coming for breakfast?' Nick asked.  
  
'Um.maybe I'll catch you up. I just wanna find out something first.'  
  
'Sure, we'll see you over there then.' They didn't need to say the place, there was only one café they ate breakfast in. 'You've been sitting in front of a computer again, haven't you?' He added.  
  
She gave him a half scowl, half questioning look.  
  
'You've got that half asleep, only awake on caffeine and sugar look.' Nick explained with a grin. 'Perhaps you should try sleeping on your days off instead of working.' He joked, although underneath the joking was a seriousness, and he didn't miss the tiny spark of shock that darted through her eyes that suggested his joking had been somewhat true.  
  
'Whatever, if I'm not there in an hour, I've gone straight home.' She told them, turning round and walking off before she could see Nick's hurt tone.  
  
'Way to go, man.' Warrick said, having watched the interaction in silence.  
  
'What?'  
  
'Never question a chick about their habits, you know, all that feminist crap. Thought you'd know better, ladies man as you are.'  
  
'I was right though, she is working too hard.'  
  
'Maybe. But you're not the one who gets to decide that.'  
  
'Who does, then?'  
  
'Sara. Or at the worst, Grissom. She's a big girl, Nick, she can take care of herself.'  
  
'She shouldn't have to work that case alone.'  
  
'No, but seeing as we've all got big cases, there's not much choice, is there?'  
  
'Oh well, Me and Catherine should have everything finished pretty early tonight.' Nick said, as they started walking towards the exit. 'We can help out, if nothing else comes in.'  
  
'In this city? Bound to be something going down.' Warrick joked as they walked out.  
  
Sara quickly found out that there wasn't a local store of the chain that sold the blanket, but it was available on mail order via both catalogue and over the internet. When she phoned and asked for a list of any customers buying the blanket from the Vegas area, she was met with laughter, till the guy on the other end realised that she wasn't, laughing that was.  
  
'You're serious?'  
  
'Very. You do keep records, don't you?'  
  
'Well yeah, But we're not very upto date here, we don't have all that snazzy computer software. We just have an inventory list, and a customer list.'  
  
'So there's no way of knowing who brought what?' Sara asked, disappointed.  
  
'Well, there is, it's just not very quick. It's called paper.'  
  
Sara sighed. Loudly. 'Well, can you find out for me. It may help us to identify a homicide victim.'  
  
'Um.well.'  
  
'Did you not hear me? Either you can do it, or I'll get a warrant and do it myself.'  
  
'Ok, ok. But you'll have to give me some time. Why don't I take your number, and I'll give you a call when I'm done?'  
  
'Thank you.' Sara said, although her voice was still a little strained, mostly at the thought of the time it would take.  
  
'It's the best I can do.' The man snapped at her. 'Take it or leave it'  
  
Sara was silent for the moment. 'Sorry, it's just time is of the serious essence here. I shouldn't take it out on you, it's not your fault.'  
  
'It's a shame you didn't call in a month or two, all our stuffs about to go binary. It just hasn't happened yet.' The guy said.  
  
'Thank you, I do mean it.' She gave him her cell and pager number, before thanking him again, and hanging up.  
  
She looked around for a moment, surprised that all the people from day shift were here, till she remembered shift had officially ended. Maybe she should be going home, getting some sleep, come back freshened up tonight to really get down to it. But with all the unanswered questions, the whys she so desperately wanted to know along with the hows and more importantly the who.she didn't see herself sleeping all that well anyway.  
  
Without looking back, she crossed over to the empty lab, shutting the door, getting down to work on the paper again, time never crossing her mind again. 


	3. fight fire

Thanks for the feedback, it is very much appreciated.  
  
The piece of paper held directions, written in a code that was easy to break. Left, obviously the L encased in a circle, right, an R, similarly placed.  
  
The street names were a little harder to work out. Whoever had written the instructions had done so in a rush, using as little letters as possible to write down a lot of information. Sara copied it all out, before bagging it, intending to send it to be assessed, see if anything came up through handwriting analysis.  
  
She emptied the paper bag on the desk, the one the coroner had given her with all the remaining clothes and jewellery, and started picking over it with the metaphorical fine tooth comb. Time once again escaped her, thoughts of herself lost against the adrenaline rush of working a case.  
  
Five minutes, that was all she had intended to do, shut her eyes for five minutes. But somehow in five minutes, the sun had dropped, night had engulfed the city once again, and she was due to start shift again in an hour.  
  
She had finished with the evidence for now, gone through it, over and over again, with little to show for it. Some things that could or could not be important, evidence that may only come into effect once she had an idea of what she was working with. It was too early to call Brass, see if he had any heads up on an identification- he worked pretty much the same hours they were meant to.  
  
The coroner had not yet released the body, which meant he hadn't completed his full post-mortem as yet. Probably another thing she wouldn't get till that night.  
  
With the choice coming down to sleep or eat, Sara decided the latter would be of more benefit, seeing as by the time she got home, she'd have to turn around and come back in again. In the locker room, she quickly showered and changed into the spare set of clothes she kept in her locker, freshening herself in the hope it would keep her eyes open a little longer.  
  
There was a diner just down the road, frequented by cops at all hours, and where Sara could fill up with a veggie burger and fries, washed down with a coke, without being out of place.  
  
She got back to the station five minutes before shift was due to start, feeling more than a little wired. The sugar hit had worked, and she felt somewhat awake now, but with it came a sense of desperation that her first real case was slipping away from her. Through no fault of her own; in a case like this, you couldn't get something from nothing. Patience was what was called for.  
  
Unfortunately, Sara hadn't been blessed with a whole lot of patience, especially when it looked like she was about to fail the first case she had gone solo on. She hated when a case got the better of them, when there just wasn't the evidence to get any decent leads, or to even get a suspect. She had a hard time letting something go that she was in the middle of. Especially when the victim had even yet to be identified.  
  
'Hey, Sara.' Grissom called from along the corridor. Sara paused mid step, and turned to face her boss.  
  
'Hey Gris.' She greeted him. 'I was just heading for the break room.'  
  
'I need to talk to you quickly before.'  
  
This piqued at her curiosity and she retraced her steps to stop outside of his office. He didn't move to go inside, so Sara guessed it was probably some trivial matter.  
  
'I'm pulling you from the human torch case, handing it over to day shift.'  
  
If he hadn't expected a fight, he was in for a shock. 'You're doing what?' Sara cried, loud enough that several near by lab techs looked up.  
  
'We're just too stretched, and you can't handle this level of investigation solo.'  
  
The anger rising in Sara was familiar, but she never expected it to be aimed at Grissom.  
  
'You can help Warrick and I close ours, then I'm sure we'll have another case to work on.' He carried on, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the younger CSI before him was about to blow her top big style.  
  
'You can't pull me from this case.' Her voice was dangerously low, but Grissom missed the threatening quality to it.  
  
'Well, I am. Eckley made a comment that they could help out with our cases, and for once I agree with him.'  
  
'But it's my case.'  
  
'Not any more.'  
  
Unconsciously, behind her back, Sara's hand curled into a fist. 'You can't give it to Eckley.'  
  
'Sara, this is not your decision.' She was only aware of one thing then, that somehow, her fist was moving away from behind her back, and was about to travel upward. She was more than a little surprised when it was caught and held, still behind her, and a male voice told her, commanded her more like, to come and help him look at a fibre under the microscope.  
  
Forcing Sara to move down the corridor, her hand pinned still behind her back, Warrick threw a 'be back in five minutes' over his shoulder to Grissom.  
  
He forced Sara into an empty lab, before he finally let go of her hand. She swung around to face him. 'What the hell do you think you are doing?' She yelled at him.  
  
'Stopping you from making a big mistake.' Warrick answered calmly.  
  
'Stopping me- this is none of your damn business!' She yelled back.  
  
Warrick stayed maidenly calm, waiting out the storm. 'I really don't think that you want to be giving your marching orders from this job by hitting the boss.'  
  
'I wasn't about to.' But she trailed off, as she realised that yes, she had been seriously about to hit Grissom.  
  
'Not that I'm saying he couldn't use a little sense knocked into him.' Warrick said with a small smile, before he grew serious. 'What's going on?'  
  
Sara was about to lie to him and say nothing, but she couldn't get the words to form.  
  
'It's just a case Sara, we're stretched as it is. What's the big deal if day shift get it?' He asked, when he didn't get an answer straight away.  
  
'It's my case.' She answered defiantly.  
  
And Warrick could understand that. It was hard to stay logical sometimes when you were knee deep in a case.  
  
He looked at her for a moment. 'Did you go home at all?' He finally asked, not expecting a verbal answer. He got his confirmation when her eyes went to the floor. Grissom couldn't have picked a worst time to tell Sara she was off the case. One she had just worked all night and day on.  
  
'Stay here, I'll have a word with Grissom, ask if we can double up on this case. Grissom can close the old case alone, it's all near enough done.'  
  
Sara frowned. 'I was fine alone.'  
  
'Yeah, you look fine.' Warrick said with an obvious up and down look. She'd had a shower but it couldn't erase the fact that she had had little sleep in the last twenty four hours, at least.  
  
Despite herself Sara giggled. 'I suppose if I can stay on the case.' She gave him her own pointed up and down look, like she was examining a specimen under a microscope. '.you'll do.'  
  
'Thanks.' He answered sardonically. 'Stay here, I don't want you getting in a bitch fight with Greg cause he hasn't finished your samples yet.' He told her, leaving her in the lab whilst he went to find Grissom.  
  
Grissom took a little more convincing than Sara that this was a good idea.  
  
'You can't remove someone from a case after they've started.' Warrick said, trying to reason with him. 'She's in the zone, of course she doesn't want to stop now, all that hard work will be for nothing.'  
  
'Day shift will no doubt make good use of it.' Grissom pointed out.  
  
'It's not the same and you know it. When you've put that much work into something, the last thing you need to be told is that someone gets to do the exciting bit of putting it all together.'  
  
Grissom regarded him across the table. 'Is there something you're not telling me? Why this case?'  
  
Warrick didn't think that telling him he'd stopped him getting a black eye and from having to sack a CSI would be a good way to go. 'Sara just doesn't want all that hard work to come to nothing. It's not like our case has anything more to do except find Tony.' He was their suspect, the case against him was water tight.  
  
'Fine. You work with Sara on this. But I want a report by the end of shift of where you're up to.'  
  
'Thank you.'  
  
'Where is Sara? Why didn't she come and ask as well.'  
  
'Uh.she had to.do something else.' Calm down. Warrick added silently.  
  
'But if something big comes in, I will pull both of you.' Grissom warned, getting back to some paperwork.  
  
They didn't talk until they got to Warrick's Tahoe. Safely buckled in, Sara went through the highlights of the case, explaining the evidence she had collected so far, and what they were still waiting to be processed.  
  
They were revisiting the scene, so that Warrick could get an idea of the case, and also just to get a fresh pair of eyes viewing it. As they drove, the route started to feel somewhat familiar to Sara, and she pulled something from the folder.  
  
'What's that?' Warrick asked, taking his eyes of the road for a second to look.  
  
'The instructions, off that piece of paper.' Sara answered; distracted as she checked street signs against the instructions she had copied earlier. 'Here, K S - Knight Street. Turn Right at the end, onto.' Sara scrutinised the letters against the road name. 'P A- Park Avenue. The route's the same, at least from a few blocks back.'  
  
There was a tinge of excitement to her voice, something at last falling into place with the bits of evidence.  
  
'Lets take in the scene, then follow the instructions back if we can.' Warrick suggested as he pulled into the alley way still cornered off with yellow crime scene tape fluttering slightly in the breeze.  
  
Not much had changed in the twenty-four hours since she'd last been here. Sara read the instructions on the piece of paper, trying unsuccessfully to guess at road names whilst Warrick took in the scene for himself, familiarising himself of where the body had been, where it had landed, the body shape of dark ash making it obvious.  
  
'It never says what the end address is meant to be, what the instructions are too.' Sara said into the silence.  
  
'Perhaps she didn't need to write that bit down.'  
  
'Or perhaps she was just meeting someone here. The last point is just at the end of the block, Baker Street. Perhaps that was the rendezvous spot.'  
  
'Not many killers give out instructions for meeting points.'  
  
'Well, most people know their killers. Who says she didn't?' Sara pointed out. Warrick looked around for a few minutes before, not really expecting to find out anything more from the scene- Sara had been thorough, that much was obvious.  
  
They hit the road, trying to follow the instructions back. It took two hours of wrong turns, and driving the wrong route, before they came to the first part. Parts were missing, or referred to in short, making it obvious that the victim, if it was she who had wrote the instructions, knew some parts well enough to not need written instructions.  
  
They finally came to a street of town houses, each with a small lot out front, parked cars in driveways, lights on in only a few of the windows at this late hour.  
  
Sara studied each house as they drove silently by, hoping that just something would alert them to the right house. There was no such sign, no big written in lights sign with "In here!" written on it. Sara sighed.  
  
'What, did you expect the killer to be waving at us?' Warrick asked.  
  
'Would help. We haven't got much else to go on.' Sara said.  
  
Her pager went off at that moment, and Sara dialled the familiar number to the CSI labs, getting Dr Roberts straight away.  
  
'Got something you might want to see.' He told her.  
  
'We'll be there in ten.' She told him, getting off the phone.  
  
'Where too?' Warrick asked, as he shifted the car into drive.  
  
'Back to the labs. Coroners got something.'  
  
Warrick started driving. Sara looked over at him, clearing her throat. 'I never.um.thanked you, earlier, for stopping me. You didn't have to get involved.'  
  
'Couldn't have you throwing your career away for one stupid mistake. I know what that feels like, afterwards.'  
  
'Thanks for doing it, anyway.'  
  
'Anytime, Sara.'  
  
Sara regarded silently in the passing street lights, before turning away, a small smile on her lips. 


	4. with acid?

Thank you for all the reviews- I love to know that people are actually reading this! As you can see, I've re-posted all the chapters, so hopefully, the formatting will be easier to read. Honestly, it wasn't me, for whatever reason all the formatting in word didn't come through on the page! There is a definite winner coming out in the relationship poll, but you'll just have to wait and see- this chapter is more concerned with the case I'm afraid! Although, I don't know about the Greg suggestion- I could never see Sara going for him. Then again, stranger things have happened- Grissom being one of them! One other thing- someone mentioned on a review my use of the single quotation marks- it's how I've always been taught. Don't know if it's a British thing or what, but neither is wrong. Enjoy!  
  
The Coroner was working on paperwork when they got to his domain. He looked up, a serious expression to his face. 'I found traces of this on her body.' He told them, handing over a report to Sara.  
  
Sara quickly scanned the paper, picking out the chemical equation 'HF?'  
  
'Hydrofluoric acid' Dr Robbins filled in. He stopped at the look that passed over Sara's face. 'I'm guessing you know what it does then.'  
  
'Extremely corrosive, removes calcium from body tissues causing deep level burns.' Sara answered, her voice deliberately monotone, as she scanned the paper in front of her.  
  
Warrick looked between her and the coroner. The coroner saw he didn't know what they were talking about, and filled in the blanks. 'It's an extremely hazardous material that even the slightest exposure on skin can cause a deep level burn. This substance was dilute to 75%, but anything above 50% would be enough to scar down to the bone.'  
  
'Is that what killed her?'  
  
'No- HF, untreated, would take a few days to kill- the time it would take to remove enough Calcium from the body to make nerve stimulation impossible. For whatever reason, after the HF had been applied, she was doused in gasoline and set alight. It probably made her death quicker.'  
  
'A lot more painful though.' Sara added.  
  
'Yes. It was concentrated around her hands, like they were dunked in liquid.'  
  
'He tortured her before he killed her.' Sara murmured, her jaw setting as the anger washed through her.  
  
The doctor waited a few moments for her to calm down before carrying on. 'There was a distinct smell coming from the body- like burning flesh but a lot more pungent.'  
  
Sara nodded in agreement.  
  
'That was caused by the interaction between HF and Gasoline.'  
  
Sara turned away slightly, pacing the room, as she fought the memories of that smell.  
  
'Would it have been enough to kill her in the end?' Warrick asked the coroner.  
  
'Doubtful- she probably would have lost her hands, and maybe had paralysis to her arms, but it wouldn't have killed her. Especially if she had been treated- Calcium Gluconate can counteract the acid, effectively neutralising it.'  
  
'Anything else?' Warrick asked, trying to move it along, for Sara's sake.  
  
'She was hit around the head; inter-cranial bleeding behind the eyes indicates a single blow to the base of the skull- not hard enough to kill though. Apart from that, the body was too burned to really assess.'  
  
'Thanks doc.' Warrick said, turning towards the door. Sara threw a shaky smile over her shoulder as she exited before him.  
  
Sara had walked to the lab, Warrick following her, before she felt calm enough to speak. Greg's usual loud music filled the lab, making the windows shake in their holdings. Sara was in no mood for it, the headache beginning to form behind her eyes already settling in to it's own concocted beat. She pulled the plug from the wall, the lab settling into peaceful bliss immediately. Much better.  
  
Greg whirled round, about to complain, but thought better when he saw who it was. 'Sara.my favourite CSI- I was looking for you.'  
  
'Didn't look far, did you?' Sara answered. 'What you got?'  
  
'All the hair samples are the same. I've done a DNA analysis, and run it, but nothings come back. The hair colour was peroxide blond.'  
  
'Thanks Greg.' Sara said, as they walked out again, report in hand. They stepped into one of the labs, so they could discuss the case.  
  
'Are you ok?' Warrick asked, concerned, once the door was firmly closed.  
  
'Fine- just want to catch this son of a bitch.'  
  
'I hear you.' Warrick agreed.  
  
'So.' Sara started, spreading the paper reports on the table. 'The perp was someone who had access to a restricted acid.'  
  
'Possibly interrupted, so couldn't finish the job he started- moved onto the quicker option of gasoline and a match.' Warrick added.  
  
'None of this helps us.' Sara cried, letting out a frustrated sigh.  
  
'Hey- it's all important.' Warrick said gently. 'Let's get hold of Brass- fill him in and see if he's got anything to add.'  
  
They walked to the attached PD building, finding Brass at his desk, buried in paperwork. He wasn't about to say it to Sara, but when he looked up and saw the two of them, he was glad she wasn't having to work this one alone.  
  
Warrick quickly filled him in about the acid, the details about the piece of paper, the fibres, and the DNA analysis had already been faxed over.  
  
Brass went over his end, which took all of five seconds as they still hadn't come up with anything concrete. The identity of the woman was becoming more and more important to sustain anything concrete about this case.  
  
That was why, as Warrick went back to the evidence they had collected to test for the presence of Hydrofluoric acid, Sara booted up the main computer in the CSI lab, and started sifting through missing persons. The peroxide blond hair colour helped a lot, and she searched within the parameters of under forty but above fifteen in age, and above 5' 6" in height. If that failed, she was going to start looking up sources of HF.  
  
Working the computer allowed her to focus her thoughts, to get the feelings she apparently shouldn't be having under control. Whoever thought that they could do a job like this and not get emotionally involved simply couldn't be human. Grissom had lectured her more than once on getting too attached to the cases, but when it came to the dead victim, she was all they had left, and she was determined to do her best for them, to be their voice, to speak up on their behalf.  
  
The victims always seemed to be the ones left behind. Whilst evidence was gathered, and theories tested, it was easy to forget that at the centre of it all, at the cause of all the investigation was a human who had no right being dead. Anyone who could know that, know what these people went through and not become even slightly emotional wasn't doing their job properly. Grissom could talk all he wanted about objectivity, but it didn't exist.  
  
It couldn't exist.  
  
As a person with any sort of feelings, it was impossible to look at something objectively, to not place a value or empathy on it. In a way, the collecting of evidence, the focus on the science was how they coped- because they were objective to an extent, they weren't a dead body lying out in the cold. Getting lost in the process was one way of not focusing on the emotions, on not going crazy that yet another person had lost their life because someone had decided, for whatever reason, they didn't deserve it anymore.  
  
Now she had the worst kind of body. The one without the identity, without a face, without a name. The "Jane Doe". Sara hated these sorts of cases because it was so easy to get caught up in wondering who the person really was. The realm of possibility was enticing to think about, but didn't help with the investigation. Out there, somewhere, was a family who had lost someone in the most awful of situations, and yet had no idea. Were still cocooned with the hope. They could wonder why the phone wasn't answered, or why she wasn't at home. They could come up with scenarios, none of which it was likely, being that she had been tortured and burned, and now lay out on a steel table in a mortuary fridge. Hope was a potent emotion. Sara hated seeing it being destroyed, when they heard the news for the first time, when they realised that there was no hope left to be had. The person was dead, they wouldn't be coming home, they wouldn't be answering the phone, or driving up the road, or coming home from work, or doing the grocery shopping.  
  
Sara had felt that grief, that incessant silence filled with nothing because suddenly there was nothing to be had- there was no hope.  
  
The clicking of the down arrow on the keyboard filled the room, as Sara fought a losing battle with her mind to stop remembering.  
  
The page came, just as Sara was getting ready to extend her search parameters. She recognised Brass's cellphone number, and dialled it quickly.  
  
The static over the line made it hard to understand him at first. 'An abandoned car was found outside of town- dumped. The plates came back Fai McKinley. Peroxide blond, 5 ten, 120 pounds. Presumed missing. Dispatch is just getting the rest of the details.'  
  
'We're on our way. What's the address?'  
  
Quickly scribbling it down, Sara disposed of the formalities, and hung up the phone immediately, bursting in on Warrick, startling him.  
  
'Got a lead.' She told him, not giving him a chance to respond, as with keys in hand, she raced to the parking lot. Warrick had to run to catch up, fearful that if he wasn't there, she would simply leave without him.  
  
Sara filled him in on the details, as she raced the road, keeping to the limit of the speed limit even when she was cornering. Warrick wanted to tell her to calm down, but knew she wouldn't, that the case that a few minutes ago looked as cold as the body, had suddenly had the spark lit underneath it.  
  
The adrenaline was contagious. 


	5. how to destroy hope

Author's note: I'm really sorry if this isn't technically right. I only know what I can guess at from the show, so apologies. Anyway, for all you Nick/Sara shippers, you'll just have to be patient! Something's coming, but I'm not telling you what. This is mostly detail, but it will flesh out eventually. Sometime. Promise!  
  
There wasn't much they could do at the scene, the car was empty, the engine dead, so while the car was being transported to the CSI garage, they went with Brass to the listed address for the girl.  
  
Sara was looking over the rap sheet for Fai McKinley. Not that there was a lot. Twenty- two, single, Sara wasn't sure whether she had forgotten to update the license, or whether the wedding ring had been a red herring. No convictions, no offences. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to give any clue as to why she had been tortured and cremated alive.  
  
The address was a small rental apartment in an older part of town, the block low and sprawling, probably housing at least a hundred apartments. The blue chipped door, on the third floor had a singing doorbell. Brass ignored it, knocking on the door instead.  
  
A petite red head answered the door, her look surprisingly bright considering it was coming up to five in the morning.  
  
'Can I help you guys? I was just off to work.' She asked, looking between the three of them.  
  
'I'm Detective Brass, LVPD, this is Warrick Brown and Sara Sidle of Criminalystics.'  
  
Her look showed her confusion, large hazel eyes searching Brass's for a clue as to what this was all about.  
  
'What's your name?'  
  
'Emily Watson.'  
  
'Ms Watson, do you know Fai McKinley?'  
  
'Uh yeah- she's my room mate. Is she in some kind of trouble?'  
  
'When was the last time you saw her?'  
  
'Uh, a couple of days ago I guess. I went to visit my mom, I just got back late last night.'  
  
'Can we come in?' Sara asked, thinking before they got any more into this, it would be better to get off the doorstep.  
  
The lounge was tiny, cramped with a sofa and two chairs. Emily waved in general at the chairs. Sara took a single, Warrick and Brass making do with the sofa.  
  
'Can I get you guys a drink?' She asked, out of a politeness that even the anticipation of bad news hadn't knocked yet.  
  
They all shook their heads.  
  
'We found Ms McKinley's car, abandoned, out near the highway.' Brass told Emily once she had taken a seat.  
  
'Is she.is she ok?'  
  
'I'm sorry to say that we think she's dead.' Brass told her simply, not dressing up the words in any way, because nothing could take away from the impact of the words.  
  
'Think?' Emily asked, unsure what he meant.  
  
'A body was found two nights ago, matching Ms McKinley's description. We would have to run tests to make sure it's her.' Sara filled in, holding the girl's desperate gaze. Sara didn't think it would help to mention that in her gut, she knew it was Fai McKinley's body they had found.  
  
'But you're pretty certain- otherwise you wouldn't be here.' Emily said, thinking out loud.  
  
A single nod from Sara was all she needed for a tear to trickle down the girl's cheek, collecting at the corner of her mouth, soon joined by another.  
  
'Tell me it wasn't her.' She all but whispered, begging Sara, making her heart pound loudly, uncomfortably in her chest. Looking for hope, knowing in her heart that there wasn't any.  
  
'I'm sorry.' Sara said, holding her gaze even though all she wanted to do was look away, get away from the stiflingly cramped room.  
  
Brass and Warrick stayed silent, seeing the connection Sara had already forged, letting her run with it for now. Warrick eventually got to his feet, started looking at pictures on the wall, ignored by the two girls.  
  
'How long have you known Fai?' Sara asked, referring to the girl with her first name almost unconsciously. Emily didn't know her roommate as Ms McKinley, would likely tell more talking about the girl she did know.  
  
'Since we were little. Preschool near enough. We grew up together, ended up at college together.'  
  
'You go to college?'  
  
'Yeah. We're seniors. Fai's doing her teaching degree. She always wanted to be a teacher.'  
  
'What are you doing?'  
  
'Child Psychology. I want to work with kids as well, but I don't think I could teach.'  
  
'Where did you grow up?'  
  
'Bluewater, California. It's a little town on the coast between LA and San Francisco. We always said we'd get away, come to a city. Don't know how we ended up here, it just seemed to fit.'  
  
'Was Fai a good roommate?'  
  
'The best. I suppose we've known each other too long to be shocked by each other. She was neat, tidy, I'm the messy one. It just worked.'  
  
'Did Fai have a boyfriend?'  
  
'No one serious. She dated, occasionally. Guys she met at her job. She was a barmaid at one of the Casinos on the strip.'  
  
'Which one?'  
  
'Um Caesars, I think was her latest one. She moved around quite a lot. Liked a challenge.'  
  
Sara wasn't taking notes, knowing one of the others was.  
  
'There was a ring.with the body.' Sara said hesitantly, wanting to see if it sparked a reaction.  
  
Emily smiled a little, although it was the sad smile of someone reminiscing. 'On her wedding finger?' she guessed, not seeming to connect that in doing so she was further confirming that it was the body of her friend 'She wore it as a deterrent in case she didn't like the guy. We both did it. Girl's night out or whatever, when you don't want to be bothered by a guy.'  
  
Sara nodded. She'd done it herself, still did occasionally, although occasional was a strong word for her social life.  
  
'Is her family still in Bluewater?'  
  
'No. Her parents are both dead, died a few years ago. Her brother lives in New York.' 'Do you have a phone number, some way we can contact him?'  
  
'Sure.' Emily got up, then hesitated. 'I suppose you'll wanna see her room?' She asked Sara. She nodded, following the girl. Warrick and Brass stayed for then, wanting to get as much from the connection Sara had with the girl as possible. They could do the full search of her room later.  
  
The bedroom was as cramped as the front room. A double bed had somehow been forced in, leaving room only for a tiny dresser under the small window. While Emily got the address book from her room, Sara looked around Fai's, just taking in the generals for now. The walls were a dark blue, and Sara wondered if they had been painted that colour before or after the girls moved in. On the wall over the bed, neat italic writing in white was painted onto the wall, the first few lines of a poem she recognised but couldn't place. "Standing still. Reminiscing. A time. A place. Far from here"  
  
On the windowsill were crowded dozens of photos. Family shots, shots of Fai and Emily, some alone, some with other friends Almost all in some bar or another, alcohol featuring heavily in them. Some with another family in, two little kids and a baby. The brother's family, maybe?  
  
There was one poster, on the back of the door, of an Alfa Romeo Spider according to its label. A red sports car, looking shiny and inviting, against a back drop of a dark sunset. A dream, a fantasy. One that had no hope of ever coming true now.  
  
School books, files of paper were stacked on what little available floor space was available. The built in wardrobe had a floor length mirror on the inside of the door, filled to the limit with a collection of clothes ranging from smart suits to jogging pants and sweatshirts. On the floor two rows of shoes were arranged neatly.  
  
Everything in the room, despite the amount of stuff and the lack of space, was all arranged neatly. The only thing of value in the room was a laptop, plugged in but not on, sitting on top of the dresser. The only TV seemed to be in the lounge, no Hi-Fi or musical stuff that Sara had seen. Did she like the quiet?  
  
'Fai was a neat freak.' Emily said from the doorway. She had been crying again, explaining why she had been longer than necessary. In her hand was a small book, covered in a silk material, decorated with tiny beads. Her hand visibly shook still, her eyes red, fresh tears still forcing their way out. 'I can't believe she's really dead. It might not be here, might it? It could be someone else, someone who looked like Fai.couldn't it?' She looked at Sara for confirmation, searched her eyes, for something, Sara wasn't sure of. Looking away quickly when she didn't get what she wanted.  
  
'She was my best friend. We did everything together. I don't know what to do without her.'  
  
'I'm so sorry.' Sara whispered, looking around the room because she couldn't bear to look at the girl anymore.  
  
Emily wandered into the room, over to the windowsill, looking at the pictures. 'That's her brother- Justin.' Emily said pointing to the family picture Sara had guessed at earlier. 'He was twelve years older than her. She was a mistake, one her parents always joked about. Fai loved being the baby of the family, right up till high school, and her parents forgot she wasn't a baby anymore.'  
  
She was silent for a moment, studying the pictures, the memories. 'I can't believe how many of these photos are in a bar.' She finally said, with a small, semi-embarrassed laugh. 'It's not all we did. Honest. Fai just had to be a little drunk before you could get her to pose for a photo.'  
  
The blond in the photos was always grinning, dimples showing on both cheeks. 'When did she go blond?' Sara asked, studying one picture in particular, of the two girls with another man, a tall fit guy, who was looking down at Fai when the picture was taken.  
  
'High school. Her rebellion against her parents. Brunette to blond in one easy swoop. Her mom went mental. She had a tattoo, a few piercings, her mom eventually forgetting to be shocked. She stopped soon after, but she kept her hair like that, said she liked it better.' Emily finished with a shrug. She looked at Sara, then looked down at the photo she was still studying.  
  
'That's Jared, a friend from her course. They dated briefly, but worked better at being friends than lovers. They used to argue all the time, about anything, but he doted on her.'  
  
Sara wondered if the devotion had turned deadly when it hadn't been returned. 'What happened to her?' Emily asked, her voice faltering as she looked out of the window. They looked out onto another block of flats.  
  
Sara had been wondering when she would ask, but found her voice suddenly faltering, words failing her. The usual words, the words that offered comfort and sympathy couldn't be said. It was quick; she didn't feel a thing. Because Fai had felt it, had died alone and in pain.  
  
She cleared her throat, wanting, willing something, some words to come. 'She was.she was set alight.'  
  
Uncomprehending eyes took in hers, held hers, shock growing in them as she realised what she was being told. 'Set alight?'  
  
'Someone doused her in gas, then set her alight.' Sara elaborated, then wished she hadn't, waiting fearfully for the reaction.  
  
The sobs came in an angry torrent, collapsing Emily at the knees so she would have crashed to the floor if Sara hadn't caught her.  
  
It was bright outside when they left the house, in silence, leaving behind a wrecked life, and few clues to what had happened to Fai McKinley.  
  
The hopelessness of the case was leaving Sara feeling drained, not helped by the lack of sleep in the last few days. The last thing she needed was to report to Grissom how much they didn't have. Warrick, either seeing or guessing her feelings told her he'd go, and then they'd have breakfast. She went to wait in the break room after picking up her stuff.  
  
Nick and Catherine were already there, watching the news. 'Hey, how's the case going?' Catherine asked as Sara collapsed into one of the seats.  
  
'Not great.' Sara mumbled, her head already settled in her arms. She couldn't get the look on Emily's face out of her mind.  
  
Catherine and Nick exchanged worried glanced. This wasn't the Sara they were used to.  
  
'Coming for Breakfast?' Catherine eventually asked.  
  
'Yeah, Warrick'll be here in a minute.' Sara mumbled into her coat sleeve, not bothering, and not having the energy to bother, to lift her head.  
  
'We heard you identified the body.' Nick said into the silence. A short sharp nod was all the response he got.  
  
It was obvious Sara was in less of a talking mood than she usually was.  
  
Warrick walked into the silence, feeling the strain. 'Come on, I hear Bacon calling my name.' He announced.  
  
'Grissom coming?' Catherine asked.  
  
'No, said he had paperwork to catch up on.' Warrick answered.  
  
Sara honestly didn't think she had the energy, but finally got to her feet, with a little help from the table. She was completely drained, never before had talking to relatives and friends left her feeling so out of it as holding Emily had, listening to the deep heart wrenching sobs coming from a part of the soul that should never be allowed to be hurt.  
  
On their way out, for some unexplained reason other than he might have guessed by the look on her face, Nick took hold of one of her hands, giving it a squeeze. Sara looked over at him, but he didn't say anything. Just offered a smile of hope. It was better than all the coffee in the world, just then, for making everything seem just that little bit less hopeless.  
  
The poem mentioned is made up. Which explains why it's so bad! If Caesars isn't a casino, then sorry- I had a block as to a name of a casino on the strip! 


	6. you're not always right you know

This chapter is a shameless link to get the characters where I need them to be! I'm sorry for incorrect characterisations etc, but the show makes it look a lot easier than it is! This is dedicated to everyone who has reviewed this so far. You know who you are- thank you very much for all the kind words, and criticisms, without which I can't improve! (Do you think I'm ready to give my Oscar acceptance speech yet?) Seriously though, the reviews make all the writing worth it.  
  
As Sara walked, she continually had to look down at her hand. It had been momentary contact, but now that it was gone she realised that she missed it already, like her hand felt too cold, too empty without it being there.  
  
She wondered at her reaction. It wasn't like her to feel needy in anyway. Maybe it was just this case getting to her more than usual. Taking the bit of comfort Nick had offered and using it as a security blanket to wrap herself up from the horrors of the case. It was better than what she usually did to feel safe, to escape from her case, which was usually to immerse herself into another.  
  
The café was a block from the labs, an old time diner frequented by cops and civilians alike for it's good portioned, good priced and tasty on top of that food.  
  
Sara slid into one of the booths, Nick sliding in next to her. Sara felt glad, then felt silly. It wasn't like Nick hadn't sat next to her before. In fact he almost always did. But this time felt different, and Sara realised with a jolt what it was she was feeling. Excitement. About Nick being close enough to touch. That she could smell the faint aroma of his shower gel where he had probably showered after shift.  
  
She tried to shake away the feeling, to stop her mind on its downhill spiral to mushy-ness. Her mind had other ideas though. Like thinking how good Nick's tight T-shirt looked. Of course, she had noticed before- it was hard not to. Nick had a good body. But this time she was noticing it in a different way. She looked down at her hands, wondering at herself, at her reaction, telling herself sternly, in her head of course, to grow up. All this because Nick had held her hand for all of five seconds.  
  
She was losing her mind. That had to be it. She was officially losing her mind. But after working on a case involving a woman who had died, it was nice to feel something, to feel anything to remind her that she was very much alive. It was so easy, when you were surrounded by dead people day in day out to remember that life was for living, not waiting around for death to find you.  
  
'Sara!' the tone to Catherine's voice told her it hadn't been the first time her name had been said. She looked up from looking (thankfully) at the chequered plastic tablecloth, the thoughts finally dissipating as she looked at the softening but definitely still annoyed look on Catherine's face. 'Man, you really zoned then.' She said. 'Warrick's going up to order.' She repeated.  
  
'Oh. Just coffee for me.' She told Warrick, going back to her study of the tablecloth. 'You can't tell me you don't want the pancakes- they are way too good to miss.' Nick asked in surprise.  
  
Sara shrugged. 'Not really hungry.'  
  
'Man, I'd have to be dead not to order their pancakes.' Nick declared. Sara sighed, knowing it was Nick's not so subtle way of telling her she needed to eat. All feelings of gooiness were fading rapidly as she felt the need to tell him that she was capable of deciding when she ate.  
  
'Fine whatever.' She said instead, biting her tongue at the rest. She was too tired to argue the point.  
  
Catherine and Warrick exchanged glances, unsure whether they were more surprised that Sara hadn't bitten Nick's head off, or that she had actually followed his suggestion. Warrick eventually shrugged, and walked off to order.  
  
Nick and Catherine started discussing the case they had just closed, an employer who had held up his own shop to try and claim the insurance back. They had caught him when he had left the gun in his drawer at work. He wasn't very bright. Which made their work so much easier.  
  
'If it's still quiet tonight, Gris said we can help with your case.' Nick told Sara. 'I thought everything was backed up.' Sara said, as she methodically and systematically shredded a napkin she held in her hand.  
  
'Gris chucked a couple of no-brainers back to day shift, and the other he got a confession before he even did anything. Everything's gone quiet for the moment.' Nick explained.  
  
Sara nodded but didn't offer up an opinion. Truth was, she didn't want anyone else on the case. She hadn't wanted Warrick. Some selfish need to actually close a case. To show them she was capable of doing this. Of being solo in the field. A need to convince herself above anything else. But if everyone else was on it as well, she supposed they might find the perp a little quicker. Like a little kid who had been given a new toy- she didn't want to share it yet. Ever.  
  
Her mind reluctantly turned back to the case. To the interview of Emily. To the girl who they had identified. To a life barely started and already over. She hadn't even finished college yet. Sara knew these thoughts didn't help- that looking at it from the perspective of a young woman's life finished just made it personal and so much more painful. But that was what it was- it was a young woman who had been killed. A young woman who was studying to be a teacher, someone in that awkward stage of training to be in an adult world, but who was not quite there yet.  
  
Why this girl? Why was she on the street, why had she been there in the first place? Was she lured there? Did she know her killer, had she willingly gone along to the meeting, unaware that it was about to turn deadly. Or had she been there for another reason entirely- had the killer seen an opportune moment and taken it. A young woman alone on the street, minding her own business.  
  
Sara had long ago given up the notion of being surprised at the depravity of human action. But this- this was something else. This wasn't a simple gunshot through the head, or a robbery that had gone badly wrong. This had been planned, down to the use of acid to torture the girl first, before setting her a light. This was done with the intention of causing pain. Horrific, unending pain. There was no word to describe the type of person who did this- murderer didn't seem to be enough.  
  
Warrick had sat down long ago, and Sara tuned in to what he was telling the others about the case. She didn't want to hear it again. She didn't want to concentrate on it. She wanted to forget about it till the beginning of next shift. Because thinking about it made her want to do stuff- go look at the car, chase up fabric sales lists, look up sources of HF. Knowing that she was stuck for the next few hours at least till she could legitimately return to work, get on with the case. At least with more people working on it, time wouldn't seem like such an issue anymore. She slid a look at her bag she had dumped between the booth and the wall. No one needed to know she had brought home some work, so that when she inevitably couldn't sleep she could fill the time with something other than useless thoughts and wonder.  
  
Their order came up, and conversation turned to the upcoming Super Bowl. Warrick and Nick were inevitably arguing about the winner, and Sara gave it five seconds before the good natured betting started on the winner. She caught Catherine's look, and rolled her eyes at the predictability of the conversation.  
  
'Guess we know why these two requested Sunday off.' Catherine said.  
  
'They've had it down since the beginning of the season.' Sara told her, as she eyed the pancakes in front of her. She really didn't feel like eating, but knew it was more because she was too hungry than not. Coffee, however, she couldn't get enough of, and forfeiting the sugar because she really didn't need a sugar high at that moment, she drunk down at least three cups whilst she ate.  
  
They separated outside the shop; all back to what they could fit into the hours in-between their weird working lives. Sara had worked grave shift for as long as she could remember, and had learnt the art of fitting in a normal life with abnormal work practice. It made dating hard, though, and even she hadn't figured out how to carry on a love life and work at the same time. Unless you're both working nights, it was bound to end in tears and acclamations of "I never get to see you".  
  
She'd had rather a few relationships end that way. So now she stuck with the strictly non-serious. A date here and there. Nothing more, nothing less than what they were willing to give on that night, knowing that Sara wasn't going to give them anything afterwards. And unless some miracle occurred and she found someone who worked the same hours as she did, she couldn't see that changing anytime soon.  
  
It wasn't like she particularly wanted more. The "how was your day at work?" question always went down well. It wasn't asking a lot to find a man who not only worked similar hours but understood working with dead people as well. Was it?  
  
Sara couldn't stop the giggle at that. Lucky she was alone with just the radio in her car. She was about to pull out of the car park, when she noticed rather frantic waving from Nick at her. She rolled to a stop, lowering the window as she did so, the questioning look on her face speaking her words.  
  
'My truck won't start- can I bum a ride?'  
  
Sara nodded, flicking the automatic locks off as he walked around the car.  
  
'I love this song.' Nick exclaimed as he got in. Sara tuned in to the music, and a dancy track.  
  
'Who is it?'  
  
'Tatu.'  
  
Sara raised one eyebrow. 'Tatu?'  
  
'Hey don't knock the name.'  
  
'Well, it's hardly a classic.'  
  
'It stands for something, but I don't know what.'  
  
For a moment neither spoke, as the music played. 'You were quiet at breakfast.' Nick eventually said.  
  
Sara shrugged. 'Lot on my mind.'  
  
'This case?'  
  
'Yeah.'  
  
'Don't let it get to you Sara.'  
  
'Bit late for that.'  
  
'Maybe you should have given it up to Day shift.'  
  
'Don't you start!' Sara cried, her tone angry.  
  
Nick knew he had stepped out of line, but as he had started it, wasn't going to back down.  
  
'You know you can't get emotionally involved.'  
  
'Oh and I suppose you never do? Don't channel Grissom, Nick, it's not becoming on you.'  
  
'I'm not saying it because of Grissom. I'm saying it as a friend. You can't solve everything.'  
  
'Well I can give it my damn best trying.'  
  
Sara pulled up at Nick's house and stopped with a jolt, silently fuming as she waited for him to get out.  
  
'Sara, I didn't mean to intone that you can't cope. But if you put yourself into every case, there will come a day when there isn't any of you left to give.'  
  
'It's none of your business, but the day it does become it, I'll be sure to think of you.'  
  
Nick opened the door, and got out, knowing he was just going to put his foot in it further if he did. There was just one thing. 'Uh Sara?'  
  
'What?'  
  
'Could I grab a lift in as well?' He asked sheepishly.  
  
A small smile came unwillingly to her lips. 'Yeah.' She finally conceded. 'Now get out so I can do my riding away in a huff act.'  
  
'With pleasure.' Nick said, slamming the door at the same time as Sara stamped on the gas. Nick was grinning as he walked to the door, and in her car, Sara couldn't stop that small smile widening. 


	7. except maybe now

Part Seven Author's note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this, or who's reading it. Hope you're enjoying it. Thanks to all the suggestions. No prizes for guessing who the relationship is gonna be, now. All criticisms and reviews are very gratefully received. You don't know how good it feels to know people are actually reading this!  
  
Nick dumped his bag and coat in the little hallway, before crossing the lounge. The ansaphone was blinking with messages contained in them, although it turned out just to be his mom, asking where he was. She never did seem to get the fact that a graveyard shift tended to mean working at night. He decided she could wait for the call back, after he'd had a chance to sleep. He was too tired to put up with her usual questioning, usually along the line of when was he gonna come home to Texas and find himself a wife?  
  
He was just contemplating what CD to put on while he took a shower when there was a knock on the door. Probably the postman or someone, he decided as he went to answer it, totally unprepared for Sara being across from him.  
  
'I'm not too involved in this case. I don't need you to tell me what to do. I'm a big girl, I can look after myself.' She told him before he even had a chance to muster up a greeting. Her tone was harsh, her stance angry.  
  
'Hi.' He responded blandly.  
  
'I just wanted you to know that.' She said, her tone a little softer now.  
  
'I think the message came across.' He answered sardonically.  
  
'Good. Then you can stop giving me hassle about it at every given opportunity.' She told him, looking satisfied.  
  
'Was that all?' He asked. 'Because, you know, I was just gonna go to bed.'  
  
'Oh. Uh. Sure. That was all. Just wanted you to know. Wanted to know you got the message.'  
  
'I'm not gonna stop worrying about you, Sara. Someone has to.' Sara had turned as if to leave, but now looked back at him, eyes narrowed. 'Why do you do that? Why do you treat me as if I can't look after yourself?'  
  
'I don't doubt that you can look after yourself. But doing it on a part time casual basis isn't enough.'  
  
'So how do you do it, oh wise one? Tell me, how am I meant to be living?'  
  
Nick regarded her for a moment, deliberately not answering straight away because he knew Sara wasn't going to listen whatever he said. Before he knew what was happening, she had crossed the couple of feet between them, and her lips were on his in a crushing kiss.  
  
For a moment his brain refused to get past the fact that Sara was kissing him. When it did, he realised his fantasy kiss.well was going to remain a fantasy for the moment. This was hard, angry, tough kiss. Nick broke it before it could get any further, not surprised to see the hostility in Sara's eyes when she looked at him.  
  
'Come on Nick.don't tell me you didn't want this.' She whispered harshly, her fingers on the button of his jeans indicating what this was.  
  
For a moment, Nick closed his eyes, as the button came apart quickly with Sara's nimble fingers. He did want this, had always wanted this. Just not this way.  
  
He pulled back before she could start on the zip. 'No, Sara.'  
  
'No?' She asked, as if the word was from a foreign language.  
  
'No.' Nick confirmed. 'I'm not gonna deny that I like you. A lot. And yeah, I've wanted more from our relationship. But not like this. Not because you're mad, and hurt, and want to feel better about yourself. I'm not that type of guy.'  
  
'You don't want to have sex with me?'  
  
'Oh, I want to have sex with you. Just not like this, not with you like this. Not when you only want to do it because I'm here and available. I won't be that guy for you.'  
  
Sara looked up at him, a strange mix of toughness and vulnerability. 'Fine.' She spat at him. 'Just don't think that for one minute you'll get another chance.' And she was gone, the roar of the engine potent in the quiet morning air, leaving Nick feeling wounded, and more than a little concerned. Who was that?  
  
Sara rarely slept a whole lot of hours during the day. Even after all this time, her body was just not ready to accept that day time was equalled to sleep time. Time was a strange concept when you worked over two days, and slept through one rather than the other way round. She rarely knew what day it actually was, unless there was something obvious to identify it by, like the garbage men on a Thursday morning. She had calendars all over her house to try and keep track.  
  
That was why, at three o-clock that afternoon she was out jogging. She wasn't particularly into keeping fit- irregular sleep and even more irregular eating habits usually worked in keeping weight off. But there were occasions when no amount of tossing or turning in bed worked, and there was little on the box at this time of the day. So she ran. And thought.  
  
If you could die from embarrassment, she was currently dying a long slow painfully drawn out death. She couldn't even think without seeing the look on Nick's face, hearing her words said aloud over and over and over. Like a bad tape stuck on a never ending loop. Seeing the pained look on Nick's face.  
  
She didn't want to go to work tonight. She couldn't remember the last time she had had that thought. She really really really didn't want to go to work tonight. Worse still, she was meant to be picking Nick up on the way. She could just see that turning out well. "Hi, sorry I threw myself at you in a fit of abandonment, I was just feeling really bad about myself" didn't sound like much of an excuse. How was she meant to face him ever again?  
  
However she tried to rationalise her behaviour, try and assess it logically and objectively, she knew she had been way out of order, that she had just used and abused possibly the best friend she had to make herself feel better. Or just to feel really.  
  
What had she been thinking when she had u-turned, went back to his place, said that stuff to him? She did a mental head slap. Then did a real one just for good measure, making two old ladies waiting at the bus stop look at her startled. If she had her gun with her, now would seem like the perfect time to put into practice all that she had learned from years of being a CSI.  
  
She ran for a good three miles, till the sweat poured from her, and every muscle ached enough to finally take her mind of Nick. She stood under a luke warm shower, letting the powerful jets kneed at her back, trying to work up the energy to lather up some soap to wash her hair. She put her head under the jets of water, letting the water stream down her shut eyes and partly open mouth, wondering how she could get through the day.  
  
The answer came contained in her bag and a paper cardboard folder. What better way to not have to think of Nick than to work on the very case that made her feel so out of control?  
  
She lugged the Yellow Pages and her cordless phone to the desk, and started looking for suppliers of HF. It was a controlled chemical, which supposedly meant that you couldn't just buy it, as many people were willing to tell her over the phone. So she logged onto the Internet, and a couple of searches later identified at least two thousand suppliers all willing to ship it with the only guarantee of a credit card number that was real. Another dead end. Another lead disintegrating before her. Sara shook her head. Perhaps working hadn't been such a good idea after all.  
  
She sat and looked out of her window for a while, watching the world and his wife go past, before on impulse she dialled a number, and arranged to meet someone.  
  
There was always one thing she could do. Emily Watson had obviously been looking out for her, as she opened the door before Sara had exited the car. Sara had dressed in jeans and a spaghetti strapped top, the air on high in the car making the heat outside seem more oppressive. Inside the flat was barely any better, even with every window open.  
  
She started on what was left of Fai McKinley's life, rejecting a drink from Emily, concentrating on the girl who had been burned so bad she couldn't even be recognised from the outside.  
  
Nick waited on the street corner, not thinking for a moment that Sara would actually turn up to pick him up. But the small part of his character that liked torturing itself with hope meaning he was stood there anyway. He looked at his watch, then back at the road. He was perhaps a little early, but then, Sara was always in early. Five more minutes. He would wait five minutes, then call a cab and get a ride in.  
  
Four minutes. He noticed a black Tahoe at the end of the road, as his heart started pounding in his chest, and he was sure that he had forgotten how to breathe as he watched it come up the road. Disappointment coursed through him, as the car rushed past, not slowing, an older guy sat at the wheel looking ahead at the road.  
  
Why was he disappointed? What was he meant to say if Sara did come here? How were you meant to start a conversation with someone who had come to jump you, and been turned down in no uncertain terms. Nick knew he had done the right thing, but couldn't keep the tiny amount of regret at his decision from creeping into the peripheries. He just had the answer to his dreams basically tell him his every wish was about to come true and he had turned her down.  
  
Was he that dumb?  
  
But he knew if they had done, whatever it was they would have done, that he would have totally ruined any chance he ever had with Sara. And he wasn't willing to do that just yet.  
  
He looked at his watch. Five minutes had come and gone, and he resigned himself to the fact that Sara was now going to be avoiding him, and turned to go back into the house to call a cab. He had taken two steps when a car slowed to a stop by the kerb, and sat in idle. He turned around slowly, a small smile lighting up his heart, if not his face as Sara reluctantly met his look.  
  
She kept two hands firmly on the wheel, turning back to survey the road after that quick glance his way. She didn't look as he got in, just waited for the door to close, before stepping on the gas.  
  
Nick finally cleared his throat. The silence was way too oppressive. He fidgeted in his seat. Stared at the radio, searched his brain for anything. Any words to say to take away this atmosphere. Failing miserably at that, he instead said the first thing that came to his mind. 'Well, if we're this awkward now, imagine what it would have been like if we had had sex.'  
  
Sara looked at him in shocked surprise, before a smile caught at her lips and she even laughed a little. The words had been so unexpected, that at first Sara didn't know how to respond. She hadn't come equipped to actually talk about what had happened. She just wanted to get through the night.  
  
'I'm sorry.' She eventually said into the quiet. She turned, caught his look and held it for a second. 'Really sorry. I don't know why I did that.'  
  
'Forget about it, ok? We all do things we regret. Let's just forget about it.' Nick said, watching her even though her eyes were back on the road. He saw her nod slightly.  
  
'Thank you.' She spoke to the windscreen. 'Thank you for taking it easy on me.'  
  
Nick laughed slightly as he looked out the window. 'Oh don't worry, I expect something to make it up.'  
  
Sara looked at him again, this time a genuine smile lighting up her face. 'You're on.' She promised.  
  
  
  
I've always seen Sara as a go get them type of character, but if you disagree, please let me know what you think. Another thing, has the show said anything about Sara's family- you know sisters or brothers etc? I'd be grateful for any info about this. 


	8. why did it have to come to this?

Authors Note. Yes, this is the last chapter. For now. Thank you to anyone who read this, and especially to those who were kind enough to put their thoughts in words. It meant a great deal. My new years resolution, (in February) is to write more reviews. I now know why they are craved by every writer. Anyway, that wasn't a subtle way to get more reviews, but if you do feel like writing down your faults, I'm all ears. Or eyes. Especially as they might motivate me to write the sequel!  
  
  
  
'Ok, then, as no new cases have come in, we can all have a crack at the human firebomb case.' Grissom was sat at the head of the table, a father figure. Sara glared at him, the impetuous teenage rebel. She held her tongue though. Teenage years had taught her that much, if nothing else.  
  
Grissom, if he noticed the glare, chose to blank it, and carried on. 'Want to detail the case so far?' He seemed to direct the question at Warrick, although he had spotted the glare, and didn't particularly want it directed at him. He glanced at Sara, a silent cue for her to start speaking.  
  
'Fai Matthews, positive id came through today. Burned to death following application of Hydrofluoric acid.' Sara's voice was deliberately without tone, her look on the paper in front of her, although she wasn't following it, didn't need a prompt for this. The details were ingrained on her brain.  
  
Warrick watched, knowing all the details of the case as well, trying to read her body language. When he had spotted her that night, she was already knee deep in reports, the top one, the positive id of the body, thrust at him before he had even said hi.  
  
Before he could get into details, however, Nick had walked in with sodas, handing one to Sara. She had accepted, thanking him, although there was something not quite right with the interaction. Too polite, too false; he'd never witnessed such a cold, almost rehearsed exchange. Not between them two, anyway.  
  
Although he and Sara had started on less than steady ground, she and Nick had seemed to hit it off, become firm friends, always laughing and joking , taking the piss out of each other. What had happened, he wondered, to suddenly warrant this display of politeness?  
  
But that was the least of his worries. He wondered if Sara had actually slept in the last eight hours, her appearance cleverly made up, as it was, with neutral make up, to hide any distinguishing marks of tiredness.  
  
He knew the tone was put on, that she had let the case get to her more than they should allow, that she was making it personal. She was a good CSI, one of the best he had ever worked with. But the line she chose to draw between her and the victim was hazy at best.  
  
Sometimes she seemed fine, dancing the right side of it, in control. But there were cases, like for any of them, that saw her dancing closer and closer to the edge, drawing too close, not pulling back when she should, not putting the distance they had all had drilled into them from day one about the relationship they should have with the deceased.  
  
Cases with woman; everyone knew that was Sara's snap point. Usually she was fine, but this time, being in charge, putting the pressure on herself hadn't helped her to keep back, to watch with the objectivity required to do their job. Warrick knew she was teetering on the edge, could fall either way, just hoping that Grissom taking away the control of the case as he had was in enough time to stop her falling the wrong side.  
  
The effects of that could be disastrous.  
  
Nick appeared to study the paper in front of him. Although, between listening to Sara's voice and sneaking glances at her from across the table, he wasn't really following the script in front of him. Sara watching wasn't new to him. But having to do it with the knowledge that just that morning she had offered herself to him on a plate, put a different spin on the whole thing. No one else, thank goodness, seemed to have picked up on anything. Catherine had spotted them coming to work together, making some comment about not being very discrete. Sara had laughed, the sound false to his ears, telling her that if she had an affair with anyone at work, no one would ever know about it.  
  
He didn't regret saying no. He couldn't. It would have been taking advantage of her, and he would never do that. But wistfully, he tried to imagine what it would be like to hold the brunette in his arms, to stare openly at her, to stroke that silky skin, to know that if he wanted, he never had to let her go.  
  
Nick was jerked out of his trance as a pager went off, filling the quiet room suddenly with an ear piercing beep. They all looked down, Sara responding with an irritated sigh, before she read the display. She looked at it for a full five seconds, before looking back at the piece of computer paper in her hands, the details of the fleece blanket, reading from where she had been interrupted from as if nothing had happened.  
  
The full details of the case only took, maybe, fifteen minutes, which Sara took as proof to the total lack of evidence they had.  
  
'Ok, Catherine, follow up the hair and trace, Nick, work with the paper and directions, try and get something from that.'  
  
'The fingerprint's the vics; sorry, I forgot to mention that.' Sara said, not allowing her annoyance at having Grissom rip the case right out of her hands to show.  
  
Everyone looked at her. 'I though it was too smudged to run?' Catherine asked.  
  
'Well, Warrick came up with a way to smooth it out a little. As best as a visual id can be, it was the vics, no question.' Sara answered.  
  
'Well, anyway, work with the directions, see where they could be leading to, why she had them, who she was meeting.' Grissom carried on. 'Warrick, follow up the acid. Where it can be brought, and how.'  
  
'Over the internet, for about twenty bucks.' Sara murmured. Perhaps she should have paid attention to what she was saying, and tried to remember what she hadn't put in writing at the end of last shift.  
  
Warrick looked at her. 'Well, I know where to start then.' He finally said.  
  
'I'll follow up the blanket and the car. Sara, work on Fai's room.'  
  
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 'Uh, I kinda done it already.'  
  
'When?' Warrick demanded, surprised.  
  
'Um.this afternoon?' Sara answered, although it sounded more like a question.  
  
She could feel Grissom's eyes as well as Warrick's on her, but she looked steadfastly at the paper, ignoring both, afraid she really would blow her top if questioned.  
  
A tiny muscle worked on the side of Grissom's jaw as he fought against saying what he felt like. 'Anything?' He finally asked.  
  
'Maybe.' Sara answered, non-comittingly.  
  
'Keep working on it.' He told her. 'Ok, we'll meet back here at five, see what we've got, keep in contact, anything significant comes up.'  
  
Sara stood up and rushed from the room like a rocket had suddenly been ignited under her. She was walking in the direction of the evidence room when Warrick caught up with her.  
  
'We were meant to be working together.' He said, forcing her to a standstill by stepping in front of her, blocking her path.  
  
'I know. Couldn't sleep.' Sara answered, actually making eye contact, confused when she saw the hurt that he hadn't been consulted in them. That he wasn't angry at her.  
  
He changed the subject, refusing to dwell on it. 'Don't get mad at Grissom for taking charge.' He said instead.  
  
'Who's mad?' Sara asked lightly.  
  
Warrick just looked at her in answer.  
  
'Ok ok.'  
  
They started walking, Warrick knowing he could work in the evidence lab on the computer. 'So, what's up with you and Nicky?'  
  
He missed any of her facial reaction, looking, as he was, straight on.  
  
'Nick? Nothing. Why?'  
  
'You two seemed strained, earlier, that's all.'  
  
Sara shrugged, her face neutral, even taking on a small guise of surprise. 'Oh. Nothing that I know about.'  
  
'Who was the page from?'  
  
'My mother. She forgets I work nights.'  
  
Grissom got the details of the fleece blanket. It looked like the victim had been wrapped in it, perhaps transported that way. But why she would be transported when she had been going that way anyway was a mystery. Perhaps it was something less sinister. It had been a cold night; perhaps she had been using it to keep warm. Perhaps whomever she had met, if it was someone she knew, had offered her the blanket to keep warm. Whoever it was, was amongst something like hundred and fifty of the blankets that had been sold in Las Vegas in the last year alone.  
  
He had walked down to the CSI garage, and to the car that had belonged to the vic. A lab tech had combed it for the usual blood and hair and found none. Now Grissom went through with a finer toothcomb, looking for fingerprints, anything to identify what the final movements of the car had been.  
  
He didn't know whether to be surprised or not when he found the interior wiped clean, no fingerprints to be had anywhere. In a case that was all about dead ends it seemed strangely fitting. Unfortunately, in a killing, wiping surfaces down was becoming more and more common, as the perps got clever thanks to the abundance of cop and documentary shows. It was either that, or they wore gloves to protect themselves from detection.  
  
He did, however, find one interesting strand of hot pink fibre on the back seat.  
  
He called Sara on his cell, asking if the vic had ever owned a hot pink fleece.  
  
She helpfully told him that it had been kept in the car, for as many years as Emily could remember. Another thing she had forgotten wasn't in the report.  
  
Catherine was having a mix and match kind of night. All the little bits of material or fibre or plastic that Sara had collected the first night, was being matched to what would be in an alley way filled with garbage. There wasn't much that wouldn't- cat hairs, takeout cartons, bits of newspaper. Nothing out of the ordinary, no clue jumping out.  
  
Nick held Sara's helpful map in one had as he drove the route, trying to map out why the victim should have directions. The area it came to held a few bars and restaurants, any of which could be the destination. There was no name on the paper, making Nick wonder if it was completely the wrong direction, so to speak, to be looking in, or whether the name was so simple, it didn't need writing down. Or whether the victim knew the name, just needed directions or something. There was one restaurant, sat adjacent to the alleyway, backing onto it on one side, called Red.  
  
It announced itself as a Thai restaurant, the best in a town full of restaurants claiming the same. It looked a little more upmarket than the average, the dress code jacket and tie. It was a shame that the victim had been too badly burned to identify the clothes she was in.  
  
Warrick, after only a cursory glance at the search engines results for Hydrofluoric acid knew Sara was right, that it was dead end, that there were too many suppliers, to many to narrow down to be helpful. The perp could have used anyone, under any guise.  
  
Which was why he was on the road now with Sara, going to interview the male friend, Jared Collins.  
  
According to the detail from Emily, they had been friends who had met at college, been on the same course. Dated, but ultimately just friends. Sara didn't get the buzz, the excitement that usually came when identifying a suspect. Mainly because Jared looked distraught. It was hard to identify a visibly distraught man with someone who could torture and kill. No one was that good an actor.  
  
'Do you know who did it, yet?' He asked, as he showed them to eats in his small lounge slash kitchen slash dining room.  
  
'We're working on it.' Warrick answered. He and Jared had taken seats, but Sara was wandering the room, letting Warrick take the lead on this one.  
  
'I couldn't believe it when I heard. You just don't expect it, do you? Not someone you know. It's always someone else's.'  
  
'When was the last time you saw or spoke to Fai?'  
  
'Um, Tuesday, the.um.day she went missing. We spoke on the phone.'  
  
'What about?'  
  
'We arranged to meet.'  
  
'When.'  
  
'Last night. There was this band playing at a small bar on Baker Street.'  
  
'What was the name of the bar?'  
  
'Starlight. It's been reviewed heavily in the campus press, but it was the first time we had planned to go. I know the lead singer of the band.'  
  
'Did Fai know where this bar was?'  
  
'No, I phoned to give her instructions.'  
  
Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Where the directions had been too. Why or how they had ended up at the crime scene was another story. Even with this, though, Sara didn't get a threatening vibe of Jared.  
  
At just over six foot, he would have had a few inches on Fai. He was well- built, broad shoulders, mellowed by a caring sensitive air to him that seemed at odds with the sporty image he portrayed.  
  
Warrick spoke for a few minutes getting more detail about the band, Jared showing him the leaflet, confirming the date anyway.  
  
They left, Sara not knowing whether to feel heartened or not that a piece of evidence was accounted for. Deciding on not when a heavy feeling settled deep in her heart.  
  
She excused herself from Warrick back at the labs, telling him she had something to deal with, going before he could question her. She answered her page a few hours late, knowing Emily wouldn't be asleep, would be waiting for news that wouldn't come. Sara had already told her about the positive id. Witnessed the crushing blow. Telling her now that they had nothing to go on the catch the killer seemed the cruellest blow yet.  
  
Warrick was clock watching as he waited for Sara to return. He had written the report, heard back from both Nick and Catherine, the pieces falling into an uncomfortable picture. All of them knew that they had come to the end of the trail. That there was nothing to help them identify the killer.  
  
Grissom came in, fresh from dealing with the miscellaneous that came with being shift controller. He sat, eventually asking 'Where's Sara? I thought we agreed on five?' It was already quarter past.  
  
Warrick sighed and shrugged his shoulders.  
  
'Good work, Warrick, and the rest of you. Nothing more to be done, unless something changes in the circumstances.' Grissom said, effectively closing the case with his words.  
  
The door opened, Sara fresh from a wash, entered the room slowly, carefully closing the door behind her.  
  
'Where have you been- we arranged it for five?' Grissom asked as soon as she stepped in.  
  
Sara looked at him for two seconds before she turned on her heel and left, leaving a sea of surprised faces behind her.  
  
'What on earth was that about?' Catherine wondered as Warrick moved to follow her.  
  
Someone beat him to it, though. Nick was on his feet, moving steadily, confidently to the door. Warrick didn't know why, but instinct told him to let him go.  
  
Sara wasn't exactly hidden, sitting as she was, straddling the bench in the locker room. In front of her was the case folder, spread out, Sara finishing the final report. Nick stood and watched as she signed it, carefully closing the folder, centring it before her.  
  
She looked up and met his look. 'It can't be solved. The killers going to get away with it.' Her tone of voice spoke louder than her words. The detached way she traced her fingers along the case number. The hard set to her features.  
  
'I spoke to the brother. To Emily. Told them we couldn't. That they would never have the detail. That they would never know why it was their sister, their friend that was killed. That they would never have that closure.'  
  
'We can't solve all of them.' Nick spoke quietly, firmly, still standing across the room. He took a single step forward, stopped, watching her carefully.  
  
'Why not?' Sara demanded instantly, angrily looking at him. Nick didn't take to heart the anger directed at him then.  
  
'You can't let one unsolved stop you.' Nick spoke, coming closer, sitting on the bench the right way, inches from one of her legs. 'There will always be another vic, another crime to solve. We do our best, Sar, that's all we can do.'  
  
'What if our best isn't good enough?' Sara asked, pleading with him, wanting answers to impossible questions.  
  
Nick didn't have the answer, so leant forward, pulling her to him, holding her tight. For a moment, they just stayed still, lost in the safety of someone who understood. It was Nick that moved back slightly, looking down at her, gently kissed her.  
  
It was meant to be a single kiss, just on the cheek. It caught her on the edge of the mouth. Nick pulled back, but only slightly, not enough to put any distance between them. The next kiss fell on target, the softness of her lips melting at his, moulding them together as if they were always meant to be that way.  
  
The End. For now. 


End file.
